The Legend of the Crystal Horse
by war horse paint
Summary: A feud between two families brews up to a large scale. The Langhorns - Logan, Niall, Carlos, and Louis - against the Davidsons - Liam, Harry, Zayn, Kendall, and James. With so much long-term hatred for the other, what could possibly go right? A BTR/1D crossover, based on the TV mini series Hatfields & McCoys.


**AN - This is my first ever attempt at a fanfiction. xD Cut me some slack! I hope y'all like it. :3**

They all told us that Banner Elk, Montana, was a town that was… on edge. With a population of nearly one hundred people, it's not really on the map, especially since it's in a very rural valley surrounded by the steep Rocky Mountains. There's only one trail that weaves around and up the mountains and into town, but almost no one but Banner Elk's residents knows of it.

My family, the Langhorns, have lived in Banner Elk for nearly four generations. My great grandpa even helped to found the town. He and Jem Davidson, my great grandpa's best friend, both played a key role in Banner Elk's foundation – they even shared the honor of starting the clock that is at the top of Town Hall's tower.

They were good friends – until a mystery arose.

A lone Native American rode into town a few days after Banner Elk's "birth." While at the saloon, my great grandpa and Jem Davidson listened to him as he told a legend of the Montana Rockies.

"_In the foothills," my Pa would always begin, "there runs a horse made of see-through gold: crystal. It ain't rough like real rocks; it's smooth like a real horse's fur. No one's ever been able to catch it – it's far too smart to be caught. On harvest moons, you can hear it neighing in the valley. When it stands under a red moon, its glassy body traps the light and it looks like it's on fire. To catch it would mean insurmountable wealth, but the Crystal Horse is a free spirit, Logan. It belongs to stay free. My Papaw told my Pa this, and now I'm tellin' you: don't ever let anyone capture the Crystal Horse."_

Soon after the Native American's tale, Jem Davidson was overcome with a lust: he wanted to find the spirit and capture it so he could be rich. My great grandpa tried to convince his friend that it was probably nothing more than a legend, but the man was stubborn and quickly put together a hunting team, promising wealth to each of them.

On the nights of harvest moons, Jem Davidson's group would ride out to the foothills in search of the spirit. My great grandpa would follow them, just simply seeing where they went – and was always armed with his rifle, just in case.

Eventually Jem Davidson found out that my great grandpa – along with my young Papaw in tow – was following them, so he set up a trap to stop him, but it didn't work. After some years, a trap ended up killing my great grandpa, so the chase was left to my Papaw. He recruited his cousins and some of his friends to help fend off the Davidsons, fueled now by a hatred that originated from his Pa's murder.

Jem Davidson's group grew, too. He brought in criminals, family, and even payed off the sheriff so that he'd turn a blind eye to the bandits in town. They also started thieving and vandalizing Langhorn property and crops. Jem Davidson taught his children that Langhorns were just "good-for-nothing dirt eaters," and then my young ancestors were then taunted by the Davidson kids, which then made the young Langhorns retaliate. I guess you could say that my great grandpa's murder was the spark that lit the fuse, and the young bullies were the explosion that sent the whole rivalry escalating.

The Davidsons continued their vandalizing, stealing, and hunting, and out of angry retaliation, us Langhorns started to "return the favor." We even stooped so low as to slaughter their livestock and keep the carcasses for ourselves.

And four generations later – my generation – the rivalry is still going strong. People automatically tense up whenever Langhorns and Davidsons are in the same vicinity; unlike us, the Davidsons aren't afraid to kill any bystanders.

The Davidsons fight dirty – us Langhorns fight dirty. It's turned into much more than a game of cat and mouse.


End file.
